


That's why it's called a surprise, dumbass.

by relevant



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Future Fic, Light Angst, M/M, but tbh has there ever been enough, nates timeline is trippy, not enough ray, so is mine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 14:28:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2776436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relevant/pseuds/relevant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>However Nate imagined meeting Brad again, this hadn't reached his top of possible variations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That's why it's called a surprise, dumbass.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [riverlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/riverlight/gifts).



> Disclaimer: Don't own anything, based on fictional portrayal of real people, stop googling yourself and go eat a sandwich.

He didn’t think about it often, but when he did there were a few scenarios in his head about it. It was pointless, a waste of time but he couldn't kick it completely. Maybe in one of these official get - togethers that one of the guys hosted at least once every few years. He would manage to get his work in order and fly out to other side of America and this time he would be in time and Brad would be able to make it too and they wouldn’t miss each other by 30 min because one of them had to leave early and others flight got in late.

Or maybe it would be more accidental. Jet lagged and just out of flight , getting ready for another conference in a city he just flew, in he would be giving his coffee order just to hear a familiar chuckle and Brad would be standing behind him in the line, joking about his crap taste in caffeinated beverages.  
Maybe one day he could come home to find Brad sitting by his door, bags by his feet, and smile on his face, asking if he can come in.  
OK, that last one was just wishful thinking, but he was allowed to indulge. Even if any of that ever came through and they met it would most probably be awkward. They would give a firm handshake, as always, and only a force of habit would force them to not shuffle around awkwardly, spending the next 15 min or so trying to find a common theme to talk about.

Better not to think about it. Better not to think about it all, and not like Brad kept him out of loop completely. There were periodic emails and for the first years he got a surprisingly friendly Christmas calls. But with years emails stopped almost completely and there were no more calls to be had. Times had moved on, what would they say to each other 5, 6, 7 years after they went to war together? It was for the best. As time went on these thoughts became more and more sparse anyway. The way they met was something he had expected on one hand and yet it took him by a total surprise. 

Nate was dog tired, he had been working 14 hours day after day for the last week and it still seemed like the work was nowhere close to getting down to a manageable level. Of course he had to get pneumonia in spring, what else was new. He had tried to keep up at beginning but then he needed to be hospitalized and doctor Shreid had promised to smash his phone and Netbook if he didn’t give it a rest. Now back to the side of living the tie was choking him and Nate felt like another cup of coffee was going to make him revisit breakfast content. He ditched his car and took a taxi home, managing o fall asleep only twice. 

After the second try he fit the house key in his door and turned to punch in the security code when his hand froze. He might be sleep deprived but security was turned off. It was possible, unlikely but possible that he had forgotten to turn it on before he left his morning but there were a pair of shoes neatly put next to his . Pulling his shoes off he padded to the kitchen. There was an intruder in his house but he felt calm, adrenaline swooping over him, making his head clear and all traces of fear disappear. He had a gun in safe but it was in bedroom and while knife fighting was a ridiculous notion he felt better when his fingers wrapped around a chef’s knife. Making sure his weight was put evenly he kept by the wall and slowly padded to the living room. Probably kids, broke in for ... He didn’t get to finish that thought before he saw a sprawled out figure laying in couch, asleep. A man, dressed in dark green t-shirt and jeans, light, short cropped hair and traces of beard on his face, one arm flung over eyes to protect them from light, breathing deeply and evenly. It took him a second before he felt shoulders relaxing and fingers easing around knife. While he had thought about seeing Brad again, it wasn’t to find him fast asleep in Nate’s living room like it was an everyday thing, like it hadn’t been 5 years since they saw each other last. 

Nate padded out of the doorway, put knife back in place, took a few deep breaths and fished out mobile from jackets pocket. They didn’t exactly call each other often, didn’t chat as such, exception being the time when Ray had drunk dialed him to congratulate about book coming out 5 months after it had happened. But he had Ray’s number and he could only hope that it still worked. If there was anybody who had a clue about what was happening he was going to bet that Ray was the person. 

“Nate?” Fucks sake dude, it’s… what the hell.”

“Why is a drunk Brad sleeping on my couch?

“That’s where he is? Hasn’t been answering phone, I’ve been giving myself a headache over that fucker."  
“Ray.”

“I don’t know, LT. He calls me in the middle of night just like you are doing right now, not that I’m complaining or reminding how good of a friend I am.”  
“And?”

“And nothing, I didn’t hear, I was busy being buried between Jess thighs, you two even remember that I got married 2 months ago?”  
“I’ll go and figure…”

“Not like you came to the wedding thought. At least my homey Bradley did. Jess says: “thanks for the gift card”.”  
“Have a good night and say hello to Jess, I’m going to put phone down now.”

“Yeah listen, I don’t know what’s wrong but something is off with Iceman. Whole knitting circle is in hardly contained worry mode, let me know if we can do something.”

“Bye, Ray.”

Nate put the phone down and let head fall against wall that he was leaning against. He was going to figure this out, somehow. What he could do for Brad that Ray, with whom he apparently kept a much closer contact, couldn't, he didn’t know. Adapt and overcome, right? First he needed even more horrible coffee and a change out of this damned suit.

Coffee was gurgling and he poured himself a cup, sliding out of jacket and rolling up shirt sleeves. Pouring 2 cups he breathed in and out before picking them up. Brad was there, Brad really was here, sleeping on his couch and smelling like he had fallen in a bathtub filled with vodka.  
Brad still was laying on the couch, and covering his eyes but his breathing pattern had become more swallow. 

Nate stops two steps from his head.

“You can get coffee before you explain how you broke in my house.”

Brad lifts his arm up then and looks at Nate. He doesn’t look drunk, except his face is slightly flushed . That might be sleep or maybe combination of the both. His eyes are just as blue as Nate remembers, they swoop over him and rests at the two identical coffee mugs that he’s holding. It takes Brad a moment but he sits up and reaches a hand out for a cup without offering any words. There is carefulness in his movement, they are steady and a bit slower than usual but he takes a sip without spilling any. Just as Nate remembers ; his eyes crinkle up and he parts lips slightly in enjoyment. 

Drunk or not, it wouldn’t do to get caught staring so Nate busies himself with his own mug. It’s an OK coffee, but he’s had too much of it already today, the main enjoyment he gets from it is that it's something warm and that it gives them both a bit of time. But that mug isn’t never ending and Brad was going to speak. Not when he’s ready, not when he’s sober again and shut down as a clam. It was unethical but he had to know if he needed to be careful. He assumed Ray would have emailed him if anything truly ground breaking had happened. Person liked to talk about the knitting circle like he wasn’t the one who spread the most information around.

“Recon Marine.”

“What?”

Apparently that had been enough silence. Brad sounded rough, and his words were just as immaculately precise as his movements. He was trying real hard to not let it show how bad off he was.

“How I got in.”

He looks at the door, sudden movement making his hand shake. 

Nate smiles. “Didn’t knew breaking and entering was part of training program.”

“Officers.” Brad shrugs, or at least tries to and changes his mind halfway through movement. Like that explains everything. Maybe it does.

“What is the finest of 0321 doing breaking in civvies apartment?”

“Libo.”

Brad’s eyes are drooping He didn't look bad, his hair in regulation cut and clean, skin lightly tanned and his t -shirt and jeans looked new and almost completely clean. But drunk or not he’s not going to talk more and right now Nate has had enough unethical behavior on his consciousness. 

“Come on, get up, that couch can be made into bed.” Nate steps closer and takes the cup out of Brads palm, putting them both on coffee table.

“I know.”

“Eh?”

“Didn’t want to assume that I can stay.”

“Move your ass, Colbert.”

Brad does and Nate ushers him to somewhere where he isn’t in the way, busying himself with the bed. He rarely uses it, bought on a whim thinking that he needs an extra space in case his parents decide to visit, like they weren’t going to use a hotel room. He’s glad he has it now, otherwise he would be the one who needs to break his neck laying in a couch too small to fit either of them. Brad thanks him and smiles before Nate leaves him to be. 

Nate is tired but can’t sleep. His apartment isn’t a complete mess but it isn’t as neat as usually, he’s been too busy running to work and back to do much. He doesn’t think Brad is going to care once he wakes up, not if his head was going to hurt half as bad as he assumed it was going too. But there was nothing else to do except even more paperwork. Brad was sprawled in bed, lying on stomach and loosely holding second pillow, huddling it close. Nate sparred him a glance and got the brush from kitchen to sweep the floor.

By the time Brad awoke again floors were swept, counters were wiped and dusted and he was putting away some dishes that he had been rewashing as they were gathering dust in shelves. It took him a second to notice Brad standing in the doorway, his clothes were even more crumpled but the unnatural softness from his face was gone and his eyes focused on Nate’s with ease. 

“Water?” Words come out smooth when he tells them and grips a glass in still wet palm. 

“Please.”

Nate pours him a glass and put’s it on table.  
His head must be pounding but Brad still gives him a small nod before picking it up and draining it dry. 

“So I better…”

“I'm making steak with roasted potatoes. Hit shower and let your life support know that you’re fine. There is Advil in bathroom.”

Nate turns around and starts cutting potatoes he pealed between doing everything else. Meat was defrosting in microwave and while it was going to be a blasphemy to a real good steak he didn’t care. 

Brad had left the doorway without another word, there was an rinsed glass in rack and a few seconds later he heard the shower starting.  
He couldn’t remember if there was any lettuce left. There was some but they had started to rot in the middle. 

It’s too late for such a large meal, especially since he’s was due to wake up in 6 hours. But the defrosted steak didn't taste as bad as he thought it will and potatoes were more than good.

Neither of them speaks much while eating, Nate doesn’t have a dining room table, he keeps putting off buying it until the time he finally get’s a bigger place. That he doesn’t buy because this one is big enough for him alone. Maybe if he hadn’t broke up with Sandra 6 months ago they would have been living in a nice house by now. But then he wouldn’t been sitting with Brad around this tiny kitchen table either.  
“Ray says he’s coming after my ass if I don’t ring him at morning.” Brad is spearing his last bite of potato but he’s looking at Nate, blue eyes warm and a small thug of smile pulling at his lips.

Nate grins back. He’s so tired he’s floating and the food isn’t helping it at all but that's alright, he's allowed to sleep.  
Brad is washing his plate, he's looking comfortable and Nate want's to get up and ruffle his short, regulation cut into it's place, to put clothes on Brad that are something else than a t- shirt worn so long it looks soft and a pair of jeans that have no holes in them only because they fear Brad's disapproval.

“Why are you here?” That was not what he meant to ask, at least not right now. He doesn't take his words back.

Brad turns around. His palms are wet but he doesn't wipe them, small drips of water hit the floor and splash apart. 

“Why now?” He asks when Brad still isn't speaking. He's whispering. It's ridiculous, he's in his own kitchen, just hours before he needs to wake up to and he's whispering at his... He's whispering and he doesn't know why.

Brad rips a piece of paper towel from stand and wipes his hands dry without breaking the eye contact. There's a small scar on his cheek and a scratch mark on his neck but his lips still tug lightly and eye corners crinkle slightly. Brad's not exactly smiling but he isn't not smiling either. His eyes hasn't changed a bit. Later, after combat, when he was trying to put everything together, when some things didn't make sense, he thought about Brad looking. He never ended up telling about it, couldn't find a way to make it sounds right. Some times he wondered if he wasn't completely wrong. It wouldn't be a surprise if all that eye communication he thought they had going was just an insomnia induced dream. 

“Wanted to check something.” Brad's voice is a little rough but he doesn't look away, doesn't move.

They communication must be wrong because what he is reading in Brad's face can't be real.

“I'm tired, Brad.”

“That's why I' here.”

“I mean, it's late, I need to wake up in a few.”

His voice is calm, Nate makes sure it's calm, but he really is tired and this is not the right moment in his life to deal with this all. As if there even was anything to deal with, Brad was just an old Marine buddy that had come over for a visit. There was no reason why he still was standing in the kitchen, not daring to look away.

“Go to sleep.” Brad turns away after that and leaves the kitchen. 

Nate expects it to be a problem but the next day goes about as smoothly as it ever does for him. He's worked too hard to let one more mostly sleepless night to end him. If no other leadership values; Marine Corps taught how to stay awake and concentrate. Until clock hits 0600 pm it didn't even take that much of discipline to concentrate on everything else than Brad and whatever was going on there. It also was hard to think about such things as water and getting away from table to stretch legs for a bit, but at least he didn't spend the day thinking what he was was going to see once he hit home. Who he was going to see.

The working day is over but it's still earlier than he'd like when he leaves, a firm smile on his lips and a prepared reason that's he's going to spit out, but nobody asks.  
Nate expects the apartment to be empty. He takes a few deep breaths before pushing key in the lock. It's ridiculous. He would hesitate to even call Brad a friend and they hardly talked for years but he wants Brad to still be there, sober, just for one more night. Maybe he really needed to schedule more sleep in the routine.

Nate pushed the door open, there were soft sounds of music emanating from kitchen and he could smell tomato sauce and sage. Nate smiles throwing keys in bowl on the coffee table and tugging his shoes off. He hums along Bruce Springsteen and pulls his tie open, groaning slightly when jacket joined tie on living room couch.

“It's just spaghetti with meatballs but it's refreshing to see such enthusiasm.”

Nate had forgotten about him. One second he was coming in his apartment, thinking about Brad and then it had slipped his mind completely. Either he's lucky and doesn't blush as hard as it feels like or Brad just sets precedent on ignoring it. He looks good, standing in the doorway to kitchen, wearing dark sweatpants and loose, navy blue t shirt. He's holding a wooden spoon coated red in one hand and a white mug in another. 

Nate takes a few steps forward before he realizes that he's moving. 

“Smell's great.” Standing one step from Brad he's not sure if he's still even talking about sauce. This is getting out of hands and rolling smack in territory of awkward but neither of them looks away or steps away. Brad licks his lover lip in somethings that's close to what counts as a nervous gesture for him.  
Nate thinks:” Stupid,” just as he leans forward and presses they mouths together. He doesn't let it go on for more than a few seconds before he pulls away, looking at Brad's face, his palms still pressed against Brad's chest, soaking up his body warmth through the thin material. He needs to see Brad because if he read this wrong.

“Nate.”

Bra's voice is calm, leveled, but Nate isn't listening. Talking through everything isn't what they have a good track record in. He's ready for a push and maybe a punch. Brad never seemed to be one of the homophobic bunch, but getting outright kissed without warning warranted a reaction.  
For a bit all he can see is calm, Brad is gazing at him steady and his heart beats slowly where Nate has pressed his palm against it. Nate pulls away, letting his hands hung limply by his sides and takes a few steps back.

“I shouldn't ...”

“Look at me.”

Brad's voice is soft but he doesn't want to look up. Brad is a great guy, and Nate was going to accept his platitudes that it's ok and that nothing has happened, but it's not the truth, not for him anymore and he doesn't want to lie looking in Brad's eyes. 

“Look at me.”

How did they get so close together again?

“Nate.” 

Before he thinks about it twice he snaps back at Brad's face. Getting this worked up over a rejection was ridiculous. And since when he couldn't look someone into they face? He glared , eyes wide and lips pressed together.

“It's ok, that's it, I apologize, work's been getting...”

“I was going to wait until I get a few into myself before I try but...”

They start to speak at the same time and stop.  
Brad's eyebrows twitch and pull together, and he steps even closer. Something hits the floor a Brad cups Nate's face and kisses him. It isn't just a bare press of lips this time, they fumble a little, teeth clashing and Nate tastes blood when he swipes his tongue over Brad's lips. It must be the most awkward kiss he's ever had but he slides his hands over Brad's shoulders and presses closer.

Brad pulls away first but he doesn't try to move away, his palms still holding Nate's face in them. He has a split lip and the grin he's sporting should hurt.

“Always knew that officers are unable to listen to commands even to save they own ass. Your plan of offensive worked, I was going along the lines of getting some reckon about current stats and feeding you before I try anything, bu that's why I'm just a NCO.”

“We will have to talk about this.” Nate is calm. He can feel how fast his hearth is beating and for sure, this isn't real, he can't quite believe it yet, but his voice is steady. 

“Sauce is burning.” 

Just as Brad say's it Nate can smell it too. It's a surprise his smoke alarm hasn't started to let know about itself yet.  
He pushes against Brad and into kitchen just as alarm remembers it's work. There's black smoke filling the kitchen – and how did that happen , it couldn't been left alone for more than a few minutes. Nate shuts off alarm while Brads throws open kitchen windows and pulls smoking pot to a cold burner.  
Nate feels something soaking his socks before looking down on the floor, a white mug lays shattered on the floor, spilling coffee everywhere.  
Brad shrugs and Nate steps around the puddle, never taking his eyes off the target.

“Someone was in hurry.” 

“Saw an officer's ass so deep in woods was afraid I'll get called in for SAR later.” Brad's eyes keep shooting between Nate's eyes and lips and he bites his cheek not to smile while approaching.

“We are going to talk about this.” He stands still for a while, centimeters away, not letting himself reach forward before he's sure Brad had a chance to read his face. They are going to work on verbal communication but before that there is a pair of lips he should be kissing.


End file.
